Aberrant: Differing from the normal
by Delu
Summary: Harry's always been different, he would never forget that fact as long as he lived with the Dursley's. They told him everyday: Abnormal, Strange, Freak. One day he finds a dictinary and learns a new word for his abnormality: Abberant.


**Summery:** Harry learns a new word.

_Z_**ba**

**Words:  
**tenebrous-dark.

* * *

**Aberrant:**

Differing from the normal or accepted way, especially in behavior; abnormal.

The tenebrous brown of the Dictionary slipped from one young boys hands. With a _thump_ it landed on the short-cut carpet in the Living Room of one, Number 4 Privet Drive. The pages, so soft, crumpled easily as the book landed upside down. That word, it meant so much to the young boy who had flipped threw the Webster, boredly, that day. He bent down and picked up the book that was so much larger than his hands. After turning the pages slowly, delicately, he found the word again. The boy just stared.

Harry Potter was that boy.

He stared at the page, his seven year old mind thinking the old thoughts that had been drilled into his head for so long now. _Abnormal. Freak. Strange..._ Oh, what he wouldn't do to keep those thoughts out of his head. But nothing seemed to work, short of cutting off thought all together. So, he just stared at the page, that had that one little word on it. That one little word that described him so effortlessly that it scared him.

No, Harry Potter was not a normal boy, far from it in fact. His relatives had told him as much, and having no such friends to speak of, his own self image was poor. He was smaller than most boys, being fed little for most of his life span did that to him. Malnourishment, chores daily, anything that would make him easier to control. His hair was a mess, too. No matter what his Aunt Petunia did it stayed that way, like it had a mind of its own. She had tried to cut it off once, insisting that the black tangles he called hair, needed a cut, but being too cheap to take him to a barber's shop, she did it herself. She only left his bangs intact to cover up "that ugly scar".

It all grew back the next day.

He wasn't allowed out of his cupboard for three days, except for school.

His black wire-framed glasses hung limply on his nose, some tape keeping them from falling apart. His cousin Dudley liked to break them; so did Dudley's friends. He unconsciously pushed the bridge up his nose with his small fingers. Yes, he hated his cousin. And, no, he felt no regret for saying such a thing, even so young.

But his eyes, he loved his eyes. They matched his mother's perfectly. A brilliant green, sparkling with mischief or happiness, but mostly dull from being in the care of his relatives for so long. He had found one lone photograph of his mother once, just a few weeks ago in fact, in the garage. His Uncle Vernon had sent him to clean it, and he must have been there for an hour before he found this small treasure; but it was worth it. The colored print was still safely kept under his pillow, or in his pocket at all times now.

Finally, the scar.

No, not some little white line from falling down, or a mark from one of Dudley's "games". This scar was on his forehead, over his left eye to be exact. And what made it so peculiar was the fact that it was shaped like a lightening bolt. His Aunt and Uncle had always told him that he had received it from a car crash; the one that his parents died in. But, while they never had any hesitation with this explanation, he could tell they were lying. Aunt Petunia would always start rearranging, or start to clean something after it was said. Uncle Vernon would just sit there and ignore Harry, not that he minded.

Harry's verdant eyes scanned the passage once more, unable to get the thought out of his head. _Aberrant. Abnormal. Strange. Freak._ It's what he'd been called by so many years now, he was starting to accept this fact.

He carefully set the book back on the coffee table as he heard his Uncle's car drive up. He knew that he shouldn't have messed with the book, but he was curious. The door closed and a walrus like man came into the hallway as Harry was about to duck into his cupboard. He noticed his cousin had went with Uncle Vernon that day. As he closed the door to his cupboard under the stairs, Dudley hissed the word Harry had been thinking about for a while now, then stomped up the stairs, leaving dust on his bed.

"Freak."


End file.
